


Solum

by Styrian



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon)
Genre: Alucard | Adrian Tepes | Arikado Genya Needs a Hug, Fix-It of Sorts, Injured Alucard | Adrian Tepes | Arikado Genya, Other, Post Incident, Season 3 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:27:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23050933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Styrian/pseuds/Styrian
Summary: Alucard is left alone again.Trevor and Sypha come home to pick up the pieces.
Relationships: Alucard | Adrian Tepes | Arikado Genya & Trevor Belmont & Sypha Belnades, Alucard | Adrian Tepes | Arikado Genya/Trevor Belmont/Sypha Belnades
Comments: 27
Kudos: 231





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> solum ─ latin
> 
> adjective
> 
> Definitions:
> 
> alone, having no companion/friend/protector, lonely, only, single

He lay inert as it happened. The awful sound of steel slicing through flesh was enough to make his stomach churn. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, but he wouldn't let them fall quite yet.

Leaden lids fluttered shut to keep the them trapped, but a few managed to slip to freedom anyway when the soft rasp of someone's last dying breath broke the uncanny silence. He clamped his mouth shut, refusing to let the incoming whimper push past his lips. 

The silver bindings bearing down on his skin loosened, leaving a burning sensation in its wake. Blood seeped into the mattress, slowly spreading across the bed until he felt a dampness under his calf. He did not move. He couldn't. His body was crying out to him in agony, but at the same time, it felt so numb ─ so... _dead_.

He did not _want_ to move either. The thought of raising his head, of... of _looking_ at them ─ the corpses, the blood ─ _his_ _mistake_. It made him sick... but staying here and drowning in their blood would be worse.

Raising one indolent arm after the other, he removed himself from the intricate bindings, hissing softly at the lingering affliction. He did his utmost to keep the angry red lacerations out of his view, fearing the reminder that they would likely never heal ─ at least not fully.

The events of this night would be carved into his skin for a lifetime, if not more. Like the scar marring his chest, it would be a permanent symbol representing his biggest failures in life ─ his worst tragedies and experiences.

The bindings fell to the concrete floor with a clatter, followed by the twin knives both his assailants had brandished. He briefly wondered if they'd planned this from the very beginning ─ if they really never thought of him as anything less than a monster they had to use and slaughter. He wondered how he could have been blind enough to miss all the red flags.

He peeled himself off of the blood-soaked mattress against his body's protesting shrieks, head turned away from the still-warm corpses at his feet.

Sluggishly dragging his legs over the side of the bed, he reached out for the nearest thing to steady himself with. That turned out to be the blood-stained curtain.

He grasped it tightly as he stood, wavering within seconds and stumbling forward due to the wave of pain hitting him head on. The railing above the window snapped and he fell to the ground with a loud thud, his only solace being the soft curtain floating down to settle over his shaking form.

Somewhere in the deep recesses of his mind, he faintly imagined his mother tossing a blanket over him after a nightmare, and it worked to bring some peace ─ until he remembered that it was in fact just that. _Imaginary_.

He was toppled on a cold floor with a bloodied curtain over him, completely alone. His mother was nowhere in sight, no matter how hard he wished his brain would be kind enough to make him hallucinate.

He yearned for the comfort and safety of her arms, even if it was just a temporary illusion.

Apparently he wasn't mad enough for that yet. 

Dragging himself to his feet, he clutched the curtain tightly, keeping it wrapped around his quivering frame despite the bloodied part sticking to his legs. He didn't care.

He'd take anything to feel a little less vulnerable, a little less humiliated ─ a little more _safe._

He started walking without thinking, no particular destination in mind. His wounds were healing already ─ or at least, the pain was getting better, but there was still a dull ache tracing his arms and legs as he moved.

Despite his lack of thinking, he ended up walking straight into the room he'd been avoiding the most these last few months.

He told himself that he should leave ─ find someplace else to wallow ─ anywhere but _here_. His body didn't listen.

As soon as his toes brushed against the carpet, he collapsed to the floor in a broken heap, sobs starting to weigh on his shoulders.

The sharp glint of his vanquished father's wedding band in the moonlight was enough to get the tears flowing. It was enough to remind him that he was truly, _and utterly_ , alone.

His cries could be loud enough to pierce the castle walls and yet, no one would come running, no gentle fingers would be combing through his golden locks, no calloused hand resting atop his head ─ not even the warm comfort of a Speaker's words, nor the mocking tone of an insufferable hunter.

Adria─ _Alucard_ , had absolutely no one and nothing aside from abandoned ruins and the endless well that is his despair.

The endless well that swallows anything you drop into it, including his wretched, broken soul.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this fic wasn't supposed to be anything more than a one-shot, but it's been months since season 3 and I am still not over this shit, so here's another post season-3 trio reuniting and healing fic for ya.

The smell was the first foreboding sign that something was horribly amiss.

Nose scrunched up and brows furrowed in disgust, Sypha pressed the baggy sleeves of her robes over her face, eyes watering in the presence of such a pungent odour.

Next to her, Trevor looked unfazed, but his grip on the reigns tightened considerably, fingers itching to reach for the whip secured at his hip. He was painfully familiar with the acrid smell, but they both recognized it for what it was — the stench of death. Blood, flesh and decaying corpses.

“Trevor…” Sypha murmured, voice small and trembling with fear. That wasn’t like her, but Lindenfield left them both different.

Jaw set tight, the Hunter raised the reigns and hurried the horses along the gravel path as soon as the spires of the castle came into view through the canopy of trees.

Dusk was descending on Wallachia and thunderous clouds loomed on the horizon, weak sunrays peaking overhead and partially lighting the top of the shadowy castle in an orange glow.

Sypha raised her hands in anticipation, fire dancing at her fingertips. Eyes wide and mouth agape in a horrified gasp, she snuffed out the flames as soon as the wagon came to a rocky halt in the courtyard.

Trevor sucked in a breath, mouth pressed into a grim line.

Wooden pikes impaled two rotting, scantily-clad corpses on either sides of the staircase — human, by the looks of them… or what was left of them. Maggots wriggled around on the decaying skin, falling out of holes revealing white bone and dark flesh. Crows flocked at their heads, picking out what was left of the eyes and fighting over the rest. The corpses were covered by stained, thin cloth barely recognizable as torn nightshirts.

The duo shared a knowing glance and hopped off the wagon. Trevor tied the horses to a nearby tree and retrieved Vampire Killer from his belt. Orange flames licked the air as Sypha prepared to torch the first thing that moved.

The lord of the castle likely already felt their presence, but on the off chance that he didn’t, she lowered her voice to a whisper, ”Plan?”

The dying odour was thick enough to choke on. Eyes alight with fury as they approached the stone steps, he replied flatly, ”Skewer the damn bloodsucker before he gets the chance to tear our throats out.”

It wasn’t a plan, but it was better than nothing. Taking a deep breath, the Speaker tore her eyes away from the lawn ornaments and blew the large oak doors right off their hinges. A cloud of dust filled the air inside the entrance hall as the heavy wood hit the ground.

They expected an attack as soon as they breached the castle, but as the dust settled, they were met with an eerie silence.

They ventured inside the dark fortress. The entrance hall was repaired — no longer covered in debris from the battle leading to Dracula’s demise. The place wasn’t lit, the grand staircase being shrouded in elongated shadows.

“Sypha, you mind?” Trevor beseeched, nudging her shoulder gently.

She got the message and raised a hand, a small ball of fire casting dim light across the room as it grew into a hungry inferno — a reliable source of light doubling as a burning beast capable of devouring anything in its path.

They carefully started ascending the staircase, hyper alert and keeping an eye out for — well, anything. Nothing happened when they reached the top, nor when they slipped down a corridor, or when they poked their heads into an ajar door expecting to be decapitated. The place was empty, deserted — like it hadn’t been lived in for a very long time.

“What the fuck is _going on_?” Trevor blurted, keeping his whip at hand as they checked yet another unoccupied room. Sypha shushed him with a stern scowl.

He huffed and kept his lips sealed while they navigated the endless corridors, checking every room they came across. Detours had to be taken when they found certain halls were still blocked off by fallen debris.

With every empty room, they grew more frustrated and wary — not sure whether to be relieved or terrified.

“This is fucking ridi—”

“Shhh!”

He was about to protest, but a rough finger on his lips and a motion towards the end of the hall stole his voice. Sypha dimmed the fire as they approached.

It was locked, with a faint light — a candle, perhaps — filtering through the bronze keyhole.

A silent exchange was made before Sypha stepped aside and Trevor kicked the door in. Flames burst from the Speaker’s palms, clearing the doorway and charring the carpet at their feet. An unexpected cry of pain sounded and the flames immediately retracted.

Both Sypha and Trevor drew sharp breathes once they saw what, _or_ _who_ , the cry had originated from.

“Alucard!”


	3. Chapter 3

Sypha waved off the fire hurriedly when she took notice of the crumpled figure on the floor. Trevor stepped forward to lean over the incapacitated blonde, pulling off his heavy mantle to put out the inferno engulfing Alucard's sleeve. 

Hissing like a wounded animal, the dhampir retreated from the Hunter's outreached hands and phased out of sight, skittering across the floor in a red blur until he was pressed up against the wall. Shoulders hunched and head bowed, crimson eyes gleamed behind a curtain of unkept hair. It would have looked menacing if directed at anyone else, but Trevor wasn't easily intimated — especially when the intimidator wasn't usually so abysmal.

The elegance and class associated with being _The Fucking Alucard_ was absent. The sorry state of him made even Trevor's gut clench in worry. 

He adorned similar attire to the day they departed from these grounds, but it seemed much less immaculate — wrinkled, covered in grime and torn at the seams. He'd been wearing this outfit for days, possibly more. Sypha's fire incinerated the sleeve on his left arm up to the elbow, exposing burned flesh. Burned flesh that should be healing, but wasn't.

"Alucard, are you alright?" Sypha chirped from behind the addled Belmont, shuffling past him to the cowering dhampir, but stopping in her tracks when he tensed and hissed again, baring his fangs like he was trying to scare off a predator. 

She gasped and recoiled, expression contorted in alarm and confusion, "Alucard?"

He faltered, clutching his charred limb to his chest and clearly attempting to become part of the wall. He finally spoke, voice soft and fractured, like he was trying to hold back a sob, _"Leave me be."_

The Speaker frowned, sharing a worried glance with Trevor as he rose from his crouch and deposited Vampire Killer on his belt. She turned away too soon to see him unfurl Morningstar instead.

"Alucard, I'm sorry — I didn't mean to hurt you." The Speaker's expression twisted in guilt and she held her hands up to show she meant no harm. The dhampir was obviously agitated and not himself, but they didn't have time to dwell on that, "We need to get out of here, before—"

"Sypha." 

Strawberry curls bounced as she twirled around to face the Hunter with a brow raised in question. He heaved a sigh and shook his head, resigned, "Dracula isn't here."

Alucard, or the _Alucard-look-a-like_ , shifted in response to the name.

"What do you mean? Those bodies—"

"It wasn't him." He stated gravely, eyes shifting to level the glowing rubies sizing him up from across the room, "He's finally lost it."

"Trevor, stop." Sypha floundered when she took note of the Morningstar in his hands, slinking to occupy the space between her partner and her injured friend. She held her arms out protectively despite the danger of turning her back to an unpredictable creature of the night, "You're jumping to conclusions—"

"Sypha, look at him!" Trevor insisted, jutting the handle of the whip in Alucard's direction — who had gone rigid — and waving a hand for emphasis, "He's unhinged, just like _Daddy Dearest_ —"

"Stop it, he's hurt!"

"He's a _vampire_!"

"He's our _friend_!"

"Not anymore." Raising the whip, he took a step back, "Move, Sypha."

She didn't budge. Instead, she drew her arms in to invoke her elemental magic, eyes narrowed dangerously, "I will not let you _kill_ him, Trevor Belmont."

He grit his teeth, roaring, "You'd rather wait for him to kill _us_ then?!"

"He has done nothing to harm us! Trevor—"

The confrontation was interrupted when a tremulous voice chimed in, "You... You're real." 

Both turned to face the dhampir, one concerned and the other prudent. 

Alucard straightened up against the wall, the red glow fading back to a familiar gold. His eyes ricochet between the two as he released his injured arm, inclined. 

Sypha ambled over to his side and sunk to her knees in spite of Trevor's objections. 

Alucard recoiled slightly when she reached out to grasp his wrist, brows raised in alarm. Sypha sighed, not liking this skittish behaviour — not when it's out of fear of her, "Let me help."

He hesitated, scanning her from head to toe, before sluggishly offering his arm and staying fixated on her fingers like a hawk when she touched him — like he was trying to figure out whether or not it was truly tangible.

Sypha noted this, but made no comment, choosing to inspect the wound she had inflicted — the wound that wasn't healing. That made no sense. She'd seen him fully heal moments after suffering a blow from Trevor's consecrated whip. Her flames couldn't cause more harm than that... could it?

She bit her lip, cursing under her breath, "Why aren't you healing?"

He blinked owlishly, seeming to process what she said before his gaze shifted to the stagnant flesh, "I haven't...fed, in a long time."

"Bullshit." Trevor snapped, ignoring Sypha's warning glower, "We saw your little lawn ornaments outside — looks like you've been feeding _pretty damn well_ if you ask me."

He'd be lying if he said he didn't feel a tinge of satisfaction when his outburst made the other man flinch and avert his gaze. It just proved him right, "You murdered those two and stuck them on pikes, _just_ _like_ _Dracula_. I left the Belmont Hold in your hands and you decide to desecrate my family home like _this_?"

Alucard broke eye contact and hung his head in shame, prompting the Speaker to pipe up, " _Trevor!_ You're being—"

He waved a hand dismissively and continued, "Was it all an act, _vampire_? Was I always right about you?"

Morningstar's glint in the candlelight was the only warning given before the whip struck the wall right next to Alucard's head, breaking the concrete and warranting a yelp from Sypha. The bastard didn't even flinch — didn't even raise his head.

Trevor scowled, "Give me _one_ reason why I shouldn't rip those fangs from your skull."

"Trevor, this has gone far enou—"

"Do it."

Sypha's head snapped back to the blonde in shock, cerulean eyes wide in bewilderment and horror, "Alucard, what are you saying?"

_"Do it."_

The Soldier raised his head to meet the Hunter's cold gaze. Gold clashed with blue, but the fiery spark was gone. Alucard looked defeated — resigned to his fate, "Kill me, Belmont."


	4. Chapter 4

Trevor looked taken aback for a moment, grip on his weapon loosening. He grit his teeth harshly, ”No, you don’t get to take this lying down, you bastard. Get up and fight me.”

When Alucard didn’t move, he added, “Fight me like you fought them.” He motioned towards the door, knowing the dhampir would deduce what he was referring to — and it worked better than he had anticipated.

Sypha let out a startled noise when she was suddenly grasping thin air, and Trevor grunted as his back hit the far wall. A sneer tugged at his lips as he stared into the vampire’s angry eyes, missing the hazy glaze they adorned. Alucard’s slender fingers squeezed his throat, and he let out a choked chuckle, ”There he is.”

The squeezing stopped, but he still felt those sharp nails digging into his skin, then came a soft whisper, broken and barely audible, ”I am not my father.”

Anger clouded his judgement again, and he ignorantly proceeded to jeer the vampire capable of crushing his windpipe, “Really? Because I’m pretty sure he liked to slaughter humans and put them on pikes too.”

Blood trickled down his collarbone and soaked the edge of his tunic, “I had no choice. They—”

“Bullshit. We didn’t kill Dracula and leave this place to you so you could become the new Lord of Fucking Death! What happened to passing on the knowledge, and making something good of this abandoned dump?”

“I tried, Belmont!” Alucard burst out, furious tears starting to trickle from his eyelids.

Trevor paused and glanced over the blonde’s head to briefly exchange glances with Sypha. She gave him a scathing look, then moved closer, tentatively raising a hand to grasp the dhampir’s shoulder. She spoke in a calm tone, hoping to soothe in doing so, “Let him go — let’s sit down and talk, Alucard. Tell us what happened here.”

The pressure disappeared from Trevor’s neck as the dhampir drew back. He coughed and raised a hand to rub his throat, small trails of blood smudged over his skin.

Alucard broke eye contact with him and turned away, brushing past Sypha in one swift motion and heading for the door. The Speaker’s hand fell back to her side, but she glimpsed the steady streams of tears running down his face. Her heart clenched in sorrow for her friend, even if she hadn’t the slightest clue what had put him in such a sorry state.

Once it was just her and the hunter in the room, she turned to Trevor with her hands on her hips, catching his gaze before he could move to the door,"Are you proud of yourself?"

Trevor wanted to respond with a snide remark along the lines of 'the bastard deserved it', but he found himself not quite believing it himself. An uncomfortable feeling akin to guilt settled in his gut when he thought about the tears freely flowing down the dhampir's face — clear, human tears. The bastard was _crying_ because of him, and somehow, that didn't sit right with him.

" _Fuck_ this." He muttered, head hung low to avoid the Speaker's scolding. 

He'd wanted Alucard to fight back, tear into him, go berserk, bare his fangs — _prove him right_. He didn't.

He pinned him against the wall, squeezed his throat a bit, cried and fled. That's not what he was supposed to do — that's not what _monsters_ do. He could deal with monsters.

"I'm going to go find him, and you're staying here."

His head shot up and he immediately opened his mouth, but Sypha raised a hand to stop him,"I know you don't know much about _friends_ , Trevor, but they're not supposed to hurt each other. He's my friend, not a murderer, and even if he was, I can take care of myself. Stay here or you'll just make things worse."

With that, Trevor slid down to the floor in defeat, watching her robes bellow as she turned and left the room. With violence being crossed out of the equation, he had no idea what to do.


	5. Chapter 5

Finding Alucard was harder this time. As soon as Sypha left Trevor in that room, she found herself lost in this maze of a castle yet again. 

The dhampir seemed to have disappeared into thin air, but that didn’t lessen her resolve in the slightest. No matter what nook or cranny he’d gone and squeezed himself into, she’d find him, before Trevor got antsy and went looking himself — no doubt that would end in disaster.

Trevor cared, she knew, but his pessimism was immeasurable, and very unhelpful in these sort of situations. He’d much sooner kill Alucard in a misguided attempt to save him from himself rather than entertaining the idea that things might not be what they seem. The poor man had reason to expect the worst, and she knew very well that life had never been particularly kind to him, but it didn’t mean he was right. It didn’t mean she should sit by and let him destroy his own chances at future happiness just because he expects the world to fuck him over. 

Lips tugged into a deep frown reaching her eyebrows, she meandered through the impossibly large halls, high ceilings and faded walls kept alight by the weak rays from the setting sun that filtered through the stained windows. She couldn’t help but notice the less than pristine condition of the place. It had always been dark, gothic, but not… it looked like a tragic, abandoned tomb, and in so many ways, it was. 

The occasional blown out window, crumbling stone and dusty furniture turned into piles of debris, shattered glass and blood-stained tiles as she wandered into what she guessed was the deeper parts of the castle — the parts that had suffered greatly from the battle against Dracula all those weeks ago. 

She remembers watching Alucard being flung through a wall in her peripheral vision as she drove an ice pick through some vampire’s head, and she remembered the feeling of dread that welled up in her stomach — pure terror at the thought of her friend dying at his father’s hands, losing him, and all of this being for naught. 

It was, perhaps, the first time during their journey that she actually entertained the thought of failing — it was a horrible notion that left her stomach reeling. She couldn’t imagine feeling that all the time. 

As she ventured deeper into the ravished parts of the castle, something in her head told her it could be dangerous — that it was clear Alucard couldn’t fix it while they were gone, and she could easily get herself crushed under heavy concrete if she wasn’t careful. Something else, however, told her to keep going, climbing through the large holes in the walls, stepping over fallen columns — until eventually, what she guessed was almost an hour later, she passed a room of…totally not melted gears and found her way into what seemed to be a child’s bedroom — a vaguely familiar place.

The sun had dipped under the horizon by then, and dim moonlight illuminated the room in a soft glow. A flood of relief hit her when the gentle light fell upon a shiny head of hair next to the bed. Cascades of pale gold fell across quivering shoulders, and her heart sunk.

She stepped forward, her foot catching on something soft. Blinking, she briefly glanced down to see what she was stepping on. A white blanket — or curtain, baring large patches of dark red — blood, her mind helpfully supplied. She knew what dried blood looked like, and this wasn’t old. It wasn’t from the battle with Dracula, but she’d push it aside for later investigation. Right now, she had something more important to do.

“Alucard, hey,” she tried, crossing the room to where he sat, hunched over in front of the bed. The glint of a ring on the scorched carpet caught her eye and her heart sank further, overcome with sorrow. The world must be truly terrible, if _this_ is the only place her friend can go to seek comfort — his ruined childhood bedroom, and the site of his unwilling patricide. 

The dhampir made no move to acknowledge her presence, so she approached, sinking to her knees beside his trembling frame and tentatively placing a hand on his shoulder. The trembling stopped, but he did not move. 

After a moment, his voice reached her ears, soft and riddled with raw emotion, ”Why did you return?”

She was taken aback for a moment, ”It was always our plan to come back eventually — did you really think we left you here for good?”

He remained silent, and she couldn’t stop her stomach from twisting in guilt. He thought they were never going to return — he thought they left him forever with the responsibility of haunting these grounds. How horrible he must think them to be.

Her hand slid across his broad shoulders, other arm raised to envelop the blonde in an odd sideways embrace. He felt like a cool statue in her hold, and she didn’t miss the way he stiffened, ”You are our friend, Alucard. We were always going to come back for you.”

Another beat of silence, ”And what of Belmont?”

A frown made itself comfortable on her lips again, “He’s a rude man who won’t admit it, but he missed you out there. We _both_ did.”

And it was true. She and Trevor grew exponentially close during their travels, but it was always an unspoken truth that something felt… _missing_. They both knew what it was, and after what happened at Lindenfield, they didn’t even have to talk about where to go next. Home — not the castle, or the hold, but Alucard. The third piece of their crooked little puzzle. It wasn’t lost on her that Lindenfield might have never happened if they had the dhampir with them. If he’d been there, those poor villagers might have stood a chance.

When the weight in her arms shifted, she glanced down to watch the blonde lean back, hands resting in his lap. She bit her lip when she caught sight of his burned arm, “Does it hurt?”

He paused, briefly raising his head to look at her questioningly. Her heart clenched when she saw the tearful eyes he kept hidden under a curtain of hair.

Motioning towards his afflicted arm, she tried again, “Are you in pain?”

He followed her gaze to the limb resting in his lap. The once pale, smooth skin was now red and swollen, covered in ugly marks from the fire he’d shielded himself from. He nodded numbly, faintly aware of the uncomfortable stinging sensation, “It aches, but it’s tolerable.” 

“I’m so sorry — I wasn’t thinking, and—”

“It’s alright, Sypha. You two have every right to be wary of me. I am my father’s son.”

Her face contorted in horror, ” _No_! That’s not— I never meant to hurt you, and you are not your father! You know that as well as I do, and Trevor does as well, even if he’s a little…” she sighed heavily, choosing to ask directly, “Tell me what happened here, Alucard. Who are those people outside?”

She saw his lips press into a thin line as he tilted his head forward, golden halo of hair falling over his shoulders to obscure his face again — an attempt to preserve his dignity, she realized. He didn’t want her to see him cry any longer, and she couldn’t blame him. The poor man was so obviously hurting. Did they make a mistake when they left him to grieve alone? Was this their fault?

“They… They were guests.” His voice was soft and wavering, and she couldn't help but wonder if that was true, “They were former slaves to one of my father’s generals. They came here seeking knowledge — the power to hunt and defeat other vampires, to rid the world of their evil. I truly believed them, that their intentions were pure.”

He inhaled slowly, and the gears in Sypha’s head were already starting to turn, ”Belmont said to make something of this terrible place, and teach the human race what they’d long ago forgotten, so I welcomed them, gave them a warm bed, regular meals, training — everything they asked for, including full access to the Belmont Hold and all my father’s knowledge. In hindsight, I realize this was foolish of me.”

He omitted the parts about him being so lonely and desperate for love that he overlooked all the warning signs, already fearing how her view of him had deteriorated, “I trusted them, gave them all I could, but they still thought I was holding back — hiding things, deceiving them.”

Sypha perked up when he finally raised his head, but something terrible twisted in her gut when she saw the raw emotion on his tear-streaked face.

“I longed for you both terribly, Sypha.” He admitted, shoulders sagging like he'd been holding the world on them for the longest time, ”Wandering this castle, _haunted_ by ghosts and memories both wonderful and horrifying… It has left me weak, and it made me realize that I’ve never truly been alone. My entire life, a mere two decades I suppose, I’ve had my mother and father to keep me company — to… shelter me from the world. The year after my mother was burned at the stake, I slept — then you found me, and…”

He didn’t seem like he wanted to continue. Sypha squeezed his shoulder and daringly chose to run a hand through his tousled hair, undoing some loose knots, ”I’m so sorry — it was cruel of us to leave you here, especially after we just helped you _kill_ your own father. I didn’t think—”

“Stop.”

She looked taken aback by the sudden interruption, her hand pausing in his hair. He closed his eyes and leaned back against the bedframe, ”Please don’t blame yourself. I told you to go — I thought I would be alright. Instead, I became a lonely madman. It is no one's fault but my own.”

He shifted slightly when she started running her fingers through his knotted locks again, ”I trusted them completely — and did my best to make them comfortable, to make them stay. It…wasn’t enough.”

His breath caught in his throat as the Speaker’s fingers brushed over the nape of his neck, ”They came to my room one night when I couldn't seem to sleep,” he hesitated, choosing his words carefully, “I… let them take advantage of me while I was vulnerable.”

Sypha gasped as he shrugged her hand off, avoiding her gaze yet again — likely out of shame. 

“And in return,” his voice lowered an octave, but she listened, “they restrained me with silver bindings stolen from the Belmont Hold and attempted to _murder_ me in my own bed. I... I had no choice but to kill them — I..."

The pure, naked _pain_ in his words were almost too much to the Speaker to comprehend, even as he melted into a puddle of tears against the bedframe again. 

It took a tremendous amount of willpower to keep her fury at bay and remain calm, for she wasn't a vengeful or malicious individual, but the thought of someone doing something so awful — so _depraved_ — to a friend, one she knew was kind and deserving of everything good in the world, made her blood boil. 

She knew she'd likely have done the same in his position, apart from staking the corpses, but that also made sense once she managed to piece the entire puzzle together. 

A warning — or perhaps, more likely, an unconscious plea for _help_. 

As Alucard made himself as small as possible, shrinking away from the bright moonlight, she reached out to catch him by his good arm and pull him back. 

He fell into her arms a little _too_ easily for an inhuman being capable of monstrous strength, letting out a choked noise as she cradled his head against her chest. 

He floundered, feeling awkward before she pressed her lips to the top of his head and effectively made him freeze. 

He stilled, barely breathing, as she wrapped the warm, oversized sleeves of her robe around his torso. She spoke again, her words slightly muffled by his hair,"It wasn't your fault. You gave them everything, and they were too greedy for their own good. You did what you had to. Treffy will agree."

Silence descended upon them, and Alucard couldn't help but snort once he caught on to the ridiculous nickname. 


End file.
